


Even the Strong Falter

by mandyem92



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Character Study, Domestic Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Past Abuse, Pete comforts Myka, Pete's a mush, Physical Abuse, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 22:09:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 8,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7332532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandyem92/pseuds/mandyem92
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Myka's trouble with men...her father may have planted the seed but it's her first boyfriend who watered and nourished it. Does Pete even have a chance to win her over, weed away all the pain he has caused her?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Myka's Flower

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Sorry to say I don't own any of these characters except for Cole. I wish owned Warehouse 13 but if I did I would be making episodes not writing fan-fictions
> 
>  **Author's Note:** Turn around now if you don't like stories that are character building stories and not stories that read like an episode…I normally don't write stories like this, all symbolic and shit, but the evil plot bunnies wouldn't let me sleep so I wrote this down at 11:00 at night. Hope you like it.

Myka's problem with men. Though the seed may have been laid by her father, it was her 1st boyfriend of 2 years that watered and nourished it. He was like a vine, slowly wrapping around her without her noticing. Strangling the life from her. She clung to her books like a small saplingtrying to survive. The Garden of Eden is only in her mind. The perfect life she wants in unobtainable, only reachable through books and stories. Myka knew she didn't live in there, her reality was that she lived among the weeds, fighting to survive.

Myka never considered herself pretty. Not that she saw herself as an ugly weed. But more as a small flower that grows everywhere. Sometimes people stop to admire the true beauty and simplicity of it, but more often than not people walk right by it, not bothering to deviate from their regular routines and scenery. But Cole wasn't either of those people. Myka truly believed he'd admire her forever.

But that wasn't Cole, never was and never will be. He got satisfaction out of crushing the flowers, hearing the crunch under his feet as their stems snapped into little pieces. He loved when he picked up his foot the flower was cowering from him, the way they should be in his eyes. Lower than him. Not as high and strong as him.

Myka was the naive little flower who was plucked from the dirt by him. She never imagined he'd pluck her apart, piece by piece, petal by petal, till all that was left of her was her weak and damaged stem. She believed he'd place her in a vase forever, high on a shelf to be admired and never broken. Oh how wrong she was.

Eventually the little stem that was left over from Cole became so hard that no one, not even someone like Sam, could pluck it from the ground. Myka realized what had happened to her, but she couldn't pry away her outer layers and leaves. She could let herself be vonerable again. Never again.

Cole was the perfect storybook prince. Tall, toned but not too overdone, seafoam green eyes, perfect black hair and a charming crooked smile that could melt even the coldest heart. The perfect man, on paper that is.

A book can only look so far into a person...


	2. To Meet and Enticce

Myka laid eyes on Cole in Colorado City Public Library, right around the corner from her house. She knew it was pointless to go to the library when she had the books she wanted to read at home but she liked the library. There was a relaxing aroma in the library that lured her in every time she passed it. The quiet for most was haunting but to Myka it was inviting, a comfort that she could never get at home. There was never tension hanging above her in the library like there was at home. She had no responsibility in the library. The books were all there for her to enjoy without anyone bothering her. She like being at the library. She felt...at home.

She sat, her knees pulled up to her chest, on an over-sized maroon paisley chair, tucked away in the far corner of the library next to the autobiography section that no one ever goes into unless they have some project to do. She was reading "The Awakening" by Kate Chopin. She was pulled into Edna's life, her love of the sea captured every fiber of Myka's mind. She had read the book over and over again, memorizing each part, even Edna's eventual downfall. The description of the seductive sea danced around her mind when she looked up from the book and saw him.

_"The voice of the sea is seductive; never ceasing, whispering, clamoring, murmuring, inviting the soul to wander for a spell in abysses of solitude; to lose itself in mazes of inward contemplation. The voice of the sea speaks to the soul. The touch of the sea is sensuous, enfolding the body in its soft, close embrace."_

She looked back down at her book, not wanting him to catch her staring. Something drew her to look back, like the unseen force that drew Edna back to the sea at the end of the novel. She should have known right there she would be doomed. To compare oneself, especially when in reference to love, to anything from The Awakening is to doom yourself forever, trapping yourself in an unwanted life that you struggle to escape.

She felt his eyes on her and she couldn't help herself. She glanced up slowly, her eyes drawn to his in a second. He smiled that crooked smile of his. She couldn't control herself from smiling, a soft thin smile in response. She looked back down at her book, pushing her curly brown hair behind her ear. She tried to focus back on the book but failed as she heard footsteps coming towards her. She glanced up and regretted it the second she did.

There, right in front of her was Cole, the prince Charming, the Robert from The Awakening. Or could he be Alcee?

He charmed her with his voice, like a snake charmer, playing smoothly on his instrument. It was strong yet soft. Seductive and mysterious all at once. It enticed her. That alluring voice you hear in your sweetest dreams. His voice danced around her, intoxicating her.

He talked to her for the rest of the day, even walked her home. He left behind his friends, the ones who just before he walked over to Myka, was just as hooked on his words as she was.

That one single event lead to it all. She should have shut down like she does to others. She shouldn't have flirted back. If the fact that she was reading Kate Chopin's book wasn't foreshadowing her downward spiral thanks to her relationship, then everything she learned in her Lit class was nothing but worthless words, meaning nothing. She should have let her brain guide her as she always did. If she had this story would end right her, something Myka wished with all her heart after all of this was said and done. The one thing she let her heart decide was also it's last. Never again will she let herself be swept up in love to the point that she can't get out. She shouldn't have let him kiss her goodnight, keeping her up all night thinking about him.

But above all, she should have never put that book down.


	3. Alluring Splendor

Everything was perfect. Cole was perfect. He took her to dinner, movies and the beach. He bought her books of poetry and classic stories. He sent her flowers every Saturday. He was the perfect _image_ of a boyfriend. Slowly things began to change. They were so small that Myka never noticed. She never noticed how he had changed until it was too late to get out.

It was small things, like telling her to change her clothes because they didn't look "good"

her. Then it was comments like, "I think you should cut your hair. You'll look good with it. Yeah, cut it." And she did, against her mother's wishes. She did it on her own free will, but his remark bounced around her head, echoing in her ear, when she finally walked into the salon.

Soon it became worse. Still, she thought he was looking out for her own well-being. He was the prince charming from her novels, swooping in on his white horse when she was in trouble, saving her from the dangers of the forbidden forest that she had wandered into.

Suddenly she wasn't hanging out with certain people because Cole didn't like them. Then she spent time with him even though she told him she had to study. Her grades suffered, just enough to raise slight concern in Myka. Still, he was charming, sweet and most of all, persuasive. He was that subtle persuasive that no one seemed to mind till it went overboard. Till you couldn't tell what you were thinking verses what he was. That voice in your head was no longer yours, it was his, louder than yours, over-powering it. And it always did. He always did.

Finals; the most stressful moment for all students, especially for students like Myka. She was studying, the same thing she had been doing the week before. She knew she was overdoing it, but with her "slacking off" during the year, as her father put it, she needed to ace every test. No matter what. She stressed to no end when she wasn't studying, always thinking back to her studies, her mind wandering to physics while eating and math while supposedly vacuuming.

Cole didn't understand nor did he bother to try. In his eyes Myka did what he said. She didn't have a say; she had no voice, or at least not one that he could hear. Arguing became perfectly normal between them, normally ending with Cole storming out of the room in a rage, slamming the door behind him to make sure Myka understood and saw his fury and frustration.

But one single day changed everything. One day was different. He turned quickly. Just as quick as a Venus-fly-trap snaps on its prey. Its prey should have sensed the danger, seeing the points around the flowers 'mouth.'

But the colors drew her in, its beauty enthralling.


	4. Desire for Escape

…One day he just snapped...

Cole lost it, as always. He decided that slamming the door wasn't intense enough to show his particular levels of anger. He grabbed Myka's wrist, making sure she was close and feeling his anger. He screamed in her face. She yelled back, getting caught up in the rage that was swirling around her. She pulled back trying to escape his grip.

The vines began tightening around the fragile leaves of the flower till they snapped. It wasn't dramatic or anything like that. No slow and melodramatic music, no bits of leaves falling to the ground in slow motion. They just broke off, causing pain to radiate from the stem.

Myka let out a scream. Cole let go, taken back by the screams and tears pouring out of her. He stumbled backwards, into the door when Myka's shocked and hurt face looked up from the obviously broken wrist to his face.

He grabbed Myka by the shoulders, shaking her violently. He yelled that it was her fault, that she pushed him over the edge.

She was in a state of shock that most of his words floated past her. She knew she shouldn't push him the way she did.

He calmed down, pacing around the room as Myka sat quietly on the bed, staring at her wrist. It was becoming numb. So was she.

She glanced up, watching Cole walk back and forth, his temper calming down. By the time he slowed his pace Myka saw that passion, that charm that she saw that first day in the library. She felt her heart flutter when she saw his eyes tear. She was still in love and she scolded herself for being so stuck on him.

She muttered a sorry as she shyly looked up at him. He softly sat down beside her, wrapping an arm comfortingly around her shoulders. "I'm sorry too." He answered back as he started to run his fingers through her hair. The gesture lulled Myka to sleep as he whispered that he loved her more than anything.

His soft touch and poetic words intoxicated her. She couldn't think straight. His voice sang to her, reaching every crevice of her, filling her up with a feeling of trust. She believed him. She trusted that he was just stressed out and would never do that again. She believed every ounce of venom that seeped from his mouth was really harmless, never once stopping to see the truth behind his words.

He sewed this perfect picture of him, how he was really amazing and thoughtful. A real prince charming; white horse and all, standing in a field of flowers with a forest surrounding him. He made her believe that he would always keep her up on that pedestal in a decorated vase. She would be the tallest flower, small ugly ones around her. She would be in the center, drawing everyone's attention.

What of those flowers around her? Their color was fading, once bright with youth and vibrant with romance. They encircled the center flower, remembering when they were once in the center. Their petals were withered and dusted, shrunken in size and beauty. They were weak and bent in shape, no longer strong and tall.

They yearned to just get out of the vase, to die on their own and be free of its confinement.


	5. Shrinking Vase

The arguments increased, voices rising over each other, intensity multiplied. Myka started covering her arms and neck, always wearing long sleeves and turtle necks or scarves. She hid from the world, terrified to let someone in, to let them see her battered and weak. Myka was **not** a weakling. She refused to be.

She wanted control. Control over her life. She didn't know it now but eventual it would lead to her need to control everything around her as she got older. She would obsess over every little detail that surrounded her, scared that if she doesn't understand and control them they will control and dominate her.

She was scared. More like petrified to leave. She wouldn't let anyone in. She hid behind Cole's arm that was wrapped around her shoulder like a shield. A shield that got tighter as it supposedly 'protected' her. She uses it to dodge the stares and murmurs, protecting herself by using the one thing that is causing the pain.  
She knew she couldn't leave. But not for the obviously reason. No, she wasn't afraid he'd hurt her, he already did that. She wasn't afraid to die. She felt she was dead already. He didn't allow her to live, never allowing her to be who she wanted to be, who she really is. What she was really scared of was speaking out, about what people would think. She couldn't take that anxiety that came with the judgments people passed. She wanted to be accepted. She was scared of what people would think.

_"Why does she stay with him?"  
"Are you dumb?"  
"Are you just into self-sabotage?"  
"Why did you even date him?"  
"I know him, he wouldn't do that."  
"You're just making shit up to get attention."_

These conversations she played over and over again ate her up. She really did love him. But how do you explain that to someone?

The flower in the ever shrinking vase was so in love with being admired, it never noticed the overwhelming feeling of constriction. By the time the petals began to dull it was too late. You can't turn back time. You can't give life to something that is already dead, can you?


	6. Calm Before the Storm

One whole year after that unfortunate meeting at the library Myka finally broke down. She couldn't handle it. She let him control and manipulate her for too long. She still felt something for him. She was hesitant to say love. He captivated her. That strange stare that pierced her to the bone. That smile that made everything he said and did okay. His voice, like a toxin coursing through her veins, manipulated her feelings, ideas, and beliefs. It overpowered her, taking over her thoughts and dreams. He was a poison with no antidote. Maybe the cure was as simple as medieval medicine. Drain the blood to rid the body of sickness. Drain the body of its life force to rid the body of evil.

She dove deep into her books, letting the words encircle her, replaced her feelings and cure her pain. They were a soft blanket protecting her from the outside world, from the cold frigid reality. They slid smoothly across her, calming her to the point of feeling free from her worldly existence and agony. She treasured her time with them. They were the only thing that never let her down, like the sea was to Edna. A lover of impossible proportion and realty, perfect in every way.

She called him to break up. Short and sweet. She blamed herself, saying she was no longer committed to their relationship.

He listened quietly. She could feel his angry breath through the phone. The breath she felt before he hit her. Before he took advantage of her. Before he kicked her when she fell from the pain. That breath that she felt on the back of her neck as he watched everything she did.


	7. Savoring These Words

She waited for him to answer. Two minutes was as much as she could take. She slowly and hesitantly she hung up. She sat on the edge of her bed, her toes curling around the soft tan fabric of her carpet. She chewed at her bottom lip, thinking about his reaction, or lack there of. She stared at the ground, thinking about her next move. One person flashed in her mind. Her once confidante.

She reached for the phone, pulling back after rethinking her action. She thought it through, thinking that it wasn't a good idea. She fought with herself, not sure if she wanted to make the call. Finally she grabbed the phone and quickly dialed a number she knew by heart. She moved the phone base away from her so not to tempt her to hang up.

"Hello?" A raspy yet comforting voice rang through the phone.

"Uhm. Hi. Can…Can I talk to Isabelle?"

"Of course. Hold on one second." The voice answered. The silence afterwards killed her, making her want to hang up more than before. She started pacing, trying to calm her nerves. She swirled the cord around her finger, calming her racing heart.

"Hello."

"Izzy? Hi"

"Who is this?"

She paused, the anxious silence too much for her to handle. "Myka."

She was answered by another silence, making her regret ever calling her once best friend.

"Oh." She sounded so disappointed and yet relieved. Her voice was calm but had a touch of hope weaved into it. "What do you want?" Though there was annoyance in her voice, Myka did pick up on a flash of sadness as well before Isabelle masked it.

"Izzy. I…uhm…" She couldn't. She stifled a soft sob.

"Myka? Are…are you okay?" Concern seeped into Isabelle's voice.

"I'm…scared." Myka whispered into the phone.

"Scared? Scared of who? Cole? Why? He didn't…" She could bring herself to finish her thought. Myka's sobs answered for her. "Oh Myka! I'm so sorry!"

Myka stared at her free hand. It was beginning to tremble like it did when Cole came storming through the door in his usual rage. She pressed it against the floor in an attempt to steady it. She didn't want to see herself be weak. She wiped her eyes dry with her other hand, taking the phone away from her ear. She couldn't believe she was crying.

She promised herself she would never cry. She swore Cole would never break her, never get to her so much that she would cry. Never show anyone that she was weak. Never.

"I broke up with him…But I scared he may get mad. I know I shouldn't have upset him so much. I just-"

"Myka! He doesn't deserve your sympathy! He's a slimy little ass who ruined your life! Don't let him get to you. You're better than him. Come over. You can stay till he gets over it. We'll call the police when you get her."

"No! I can't call the police. He'll get in trouble. And then he'll get mad and, and he'll…" She started sobbing uncontrollable.

"He can't hurt you if you're with me. You'll get a restraining order and the police will find him guilty and he'll be in jail. All you have to do is tell the truth. And Myka…I'll be right there next to you. I promise. Now get over here." She said the last part in a fake bossy voice that made Myka smile. She missed Izzy.

"I can't tell the truth. I don't want people to know what happened. I can't let my mom know that Cole r…I can't Izzy. I can't."

"Myka…"She could hear Isabelle's voice cracking. "He didn't...take advantage of you…did he?"

"…yes…"She whispered in a defeated voice.

"Oh Myka. Please just-" Isabelle was cut off by the thump from the phone hitting the floor. "Myka? Myka!?" She screamed into the phone as she heard a noise on the other end of the phone, a noise that sounded like a muffled scream and a loud slap. "MYKA!"

____________________________________________________________________________________

Cole threw open the door and in one swoop knocked the phone and Myka onto the floor. Her head began throbbing, her chest tightening in anticipation of the next hit. She stared at the ground, not wanting to look at Cole's eyes. They burned through her with an anger comparable to the fire that she had read about it Greek mythology. He was Hades resurrected, with all his anger and heated passion.

She felt his foot begin to crush down on her face, every second pushing harder and harder. She heard him growl through his teeth, sending shivers down her spine. She let out a shot scream of pain has he twisted his foot on her cheek. He removed his foot and began kicking her, screaming at her. Nothing registered. She was gone. She began mumbling poems to herself to protect herself. She couldn't let him get to her.

Thank Heaven! the crisis-  
The danger is past,  
And lingering illness  
Is over at last-  
And the fever called "Living"  
Is conquered at last.

He gripped her tightly by the shoulders, throwing her against the wall, his body fueled by his anger towards the "thing" he was gripping.

Sadly, I know  
I am shorn of my strength,  
And no muscle I move  
As I lie at full length-  
But no matter!-I feel  
I am better at length.

She closed her eyes, focusing on the words as they flew past her eyes, trying to remember her mother's voice reading them aloud to her. She thought how she would have loved to have her father read them. His voice carried such passion when he read Poe.

And I rest so composedly  
Now, in my bed,  
That any beholder  
Might fancy me dead-  
Might start at beholding me,  
Thinking me dead.

The moaning and groaning,  
The sighing and sobbing,  
Are quieted now,  
With that horrible throbbing  
At heart: -ah that horrible,  
Horrible throbbing!

She tried to cry out for help as his fist collided with her stomach but she could not find her voice. She fell to her knees, holding her stomach. She looked up at Cole through tearing eyes and did the one thing she said she would never do. She started begging. She begged him to stop. She begged him to leave. She promised she would not say anything to anyone. It wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to smash the quivering flower in front of him to nothing but ash.

The sickness-the nausea-  
The pitiless pain-  
Have ceased with the fever  
That maddened my brain-  
With the fever called "Living"  
That burned in my brain.

He kicked her more, yelling about Myka. His words floated past her, a few seeping into her conscious to haunt her later.

"Bitch."  
"Deserve this."  
"Trash."  
"Worthless."  
"Nothing."  
"No one will care." But for now, they meant nothing to her. Nothing but nonsense. The only words that mattered were her own. The words that she said to herself as he hit her more. The poems that she took comfort in.

I'm nobody! Who are you?  
Are you nobody too?  
Then there's a pair of us-don't tell!  
They'd banish us, you know.  
How dreary to be somebody!  
How public, like a frog  
To tell your name the livelong day  
To an admiring bog!

He suddenly stopped, staring down at the crumpled "garbage" in front of him. He turned and slowly walked out of the room, closing the room behind him as if nothing had happened. Myka had already passed out from the pain. Her body shut down all together, giving up. She tried desperately not to but not even Emily's words could stop her from losing consciousness.

____________________________________________________________________________________

Myka woke up, surrounded by white walls and the soft, constant sound of a beeping machine next to her. She knew what happened. Everyone knew. She curled over onto her side in an attempt to shut out the world around her.

She received the typical pity looks and some dirty looks from popular girls at school. She heard all the whispers about how she made everything up just because Cole was going to break up with her. She got the pretend sympathetic looks from adults. She was sick of people telling her they were there if she needed to talk to someone. She didn't want to talk to anyone. No one was supposed to know. She didn't want people telling her how to handle her problems. It was her life now, she had control over it and no one else would ever step over into her territory again.

She built up walls, not letting anyone get to her. No one knew what was going on in her head. Everyone saw her as a meticulous control-freak who had a thing for details. She was just a bossy, uptight girl who closed herself off to the world. Myka believed the walls would protect her, keep her safe and together.

A wall of thick, viney weeds built around the delicate, withered out flower. No sun touched its petals; no water seeped into its roots. The weeds that the flower thought were protecting it were doing nothing but damage, eating away at it. The flower yearned for someone to come and pull away all the weeds that it had mistakenly welcomed. But no one saw the flower past the hideous weeds. No one bothered to look for her there.

She went to the college _she_ wanted to go to, not where her parents wanted her to go. She dated the people _she_ wanted to date, not the popular, pretty-boy guys. She talked to who _she_ wanted to talk to. _She_ had total control. That is until Pete stepped in a slowly shared it with her. He pulled it away from her without her even noticing. And, though she didn't want to admit it, she was finally okay with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you were wondering...the 1st poem was "For Annie" by Poe...  
> The second poem is by Emily Dickinson...hence the "Emily's words" part. It's my favorite poem by her. I've had it memorized since 4th grade.


	8. Breaking Down

_His lips came crashing down on hers with a hunger that she felt a hundred times before. Hunger, not passion or love. Just a hunger for human contact, nothing more. His hands roamed around her body, it tensing in response. His hand slowly worked the way down to her waist, pausing at the end of her shirt. His fingers slide down to the top of her jeans, slowly pulling at them._

_Myka began to panic as it registered what he was about to do. She pushed with all her strength at his chest. She pulled her head back away from his._

_"Stop. I…I ca-...we can't."_

_"Why not? Don't be such a prick." Cole answered back as his lips attacked her, his hands pulling again at her jeans. He pushed her against the bed, throwing his weight on top of hers. Myka shifted, trying to get out from under him. She couldn't fathom what he was doing. Her Cole, though his temper was through the roof, would never take advantage of her like this._

_"I don't want to!" She screamed as she pushed against him more._

_"Yes you do. You just don't know it yet." He smiled as he pulled his pants and boxers down. He reached underneath her and fumbled with her bra clasp. Myka knew what was coming and knew that he easily overpowered her. She knew if she screamed loud enough someone would hear. What would her parents say? What would everyone else say? Was it really worth it? Was she really worth it?_

_Suddenly the beatings and the screams came crashing around her. She fought them, trying to deny what they meant. She couldn't accept that she was stuck in the one place she never thought she would ever be. She was smarter than this, wasn't she? She couldn't believe he was so far deep in her mind that she was even second-guessing herself._

_She was smarter than this, she told herself as she felt her shirt being pulled over her head. She screamed and kicked, begging him to get off her. She had heard thousands and thousands of times over about abusive boyfriends. She always saw those women as stupid. Stupid for getting roped in, stupid for believing all their lies, and stupid for thinking they would change instead of worsening. She was one of those women know._

_With this realization she stopped moving, shutting down altogether. She hid within her mind, trying to figure out how she could have been stupid enough to fall for him. Her eyes focused on the wall across from her bed as she felt the rest of her clothes being stripped off. She didn't care anymore. She wasn't worth it._

_Pain radiated from her waist as he continued to push into her. Tears fell from her eyes but not a single protest came out of her mouth. Why should she fight now? She was dumb enough to fall for him, why should she bother escaping now? Who would want her now, after all of this? She was ruined goods, tainted property. Worthless._

_She screamed in frustration and pain. She knew it wasn't rational to think that way, but she just couldn't stop herself from seeing herself as worthless._

_He jumped off her, zipping up his pants and leaning down to place a quick and thoughtless kiss on her check. He smiled and thanked her as if she was doing him a favor of some sort. Like him raping her was nothing but beneficial._

_She just lied there, staring. She didn't care. Her body hurt all over. Slowly she stood up, not bothering to throw her clothes back on. Instead she picked them up and threw them in the garbage. She walked over to her mirror and looked over her battered and bruised body, remembering every event that caused them. Every argument, every beating, every kick. She stared at her frail self and began shaking. She collapsed in front of the mirror and cried. She was disgusted by herself. Disgusted that she let Cole rape her and disgusted by how she looked._

_She glanced up at the mirror once more and stared at her tear stained face. She grew angry at it's sight. She threw up her fist and slammed it into the mirror, shattering it into millions of pieces on the floor. Her fist slowly began to bleed, a dull ache forming from it. The noise bounced around her room and in her head, scaring her._


	9. Wake Me Please

Myka shot out of bed from the noise of the mirror breaking. She woke up at this point every time she had this dream, which was almost every day. She rubbed her eyes, trying to erase the reminisce of the dream from them. She slowly got out of bed, running her hands through her hair. She knew the rest of today was going to be a bad day. She glanced at the clock which read 3:00. She grabbed her book and began walking downstairs. She knew the only thing that would calm her down was reading. She was always on edge after that dream and she can vividly remember Sam getting caught in her storm after the dream. He used to jokingly say she was permanently PMS-ing.

She felt bad snapping at people, but she couldn't help it. She felt so defeated inside after that dream and nothing seemed to cure it.

"MYKA!" Pete screamed over the bags of groceries that were muffling his voice as he walked into the Inn. "Can you pllleeeasssee help me with these bags." He whined as he heard the light stomping coming down the stairs.

"What book ya readin'?" Pete asked as Myka throw her book down onto the couch in front of the fireplace and grabbed a few bags from Pete.

"Death Comes For the Archbishop. By Willa Carter."

"Seriously? That sounds boring and weird. I'm surprised you're not readin' one of those mushy-gushy smutty books. You know the one with that Fabio guy on the front."

"Wow. And I thought you couldn't get any more chauvinist than you already are."

"I'm not a sexist! Just because I made one stupid comment about driving and it being a guy thing does not make me a sexist!"

"Whatever."

"So," Pete started as he followed Myka into the kitchen, placing the groceries on the counter next to the fridge. "Why don't you read those books? I mean, as my mother put it, it's what girls fantasize about all the time."

"Not me." Myka said, as she open the fridge door, placing the egg cartoon she had in her hands inside it.

"Why not?"

"Because" she said as she slammed down the cereal box on the counter, getting slightly irritated by Pete's prodding.

"Because why? It's not that hard of a question. I'm pretty sure a smart girl like you could easily answer a question about yourself."

The sarcasm in his voice when he called her a 'smart girl' crept under her skin, making it burn in anger. Cole always called her a smart little girl. She thought it was a complement at first but realized he was mocking her and calling her socially ignorant. He would often made remarks about how she, as a 'smart little girl,' should understand why kids in school did what they did, specifically at the many parties that seemed to take place at Cole's house.

The thought of Cole pushed her over the edge. She snapped. She truly didn't mean to but she felt as if she needed a sort of release of her anger and Pete was the only target in reaching distance.

"You want to know why? Because there is no such thing as happily-ever-afters, or fairytale romances or prince-charmings. They are all fake, absolutely nothing. And those 'smutty' books? It's lust, not love. And all those people who get sucked into books? All they are doing is losing touch with reality. They start thinking that one day that will happen to them. They are moronic."

"Well, that's a bit harsh and slightly hypocritically, don't you think?"

"No. I KNOW it's all a bunch of hocus-pocus nonsense. I KNOW that reality is nothing like novels. Yes, I read them because I want to feel those emotions that aren't real. But I know that in love the only you get when you give someone your heart is pain and misery. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Myka...you can't just give up on love. It's real. Those novels aren't based on some fantasy from the author. They are real. Lives do have fairytale ending, you just have to know where to look for it. Just because you're heart was broken-"

"DON'T start with me Pete. You know NOTHING about my heart. It wasn't broken. Broken things can be repaired. Mine was ripped out. You can't just put it back in." With that she flew up the stairs leaving Pete to in complete shock. He tried to process what she had said to him as he put away the food that was still left in the bags. He couldn't fathom someone hurting Myka so badly that she would give up all together on love. He thought about all the crappy relationships he'd been in, but none made him feel as if love didn't exist.

As he closed the fridge door after putting the last of the food away he heard something above him. He slowly walked up the stairs, listening as the sound got louder. Someone was softly crying, obviously trying to stifle the tears and pull themselves together. He vividly remembered sitting in his room listening to his mother trying to do the exact same thing after his father past away. It felt as if his heart was aching, like it needed to escape his chest and reach out to his mother. He felt this way as he approached Myka's door and the sobbing dwindled into soft sniffles.

He knocked on the door, waiting for Myka to scream at him. He was answered by complete silence. It was that type of silence that is frightening. One that makes you question everything you've done before that single moment. It's that type of silence where things begin spinning around you, falling at your feet as they slow down. Everything begins to fall apart.

"Myka? Please answer me. I'm...I'm sorry. Really I am"

He heard the soft pounding of her feet carrying her to the door. She slowly turned the nob, the anticipation of seeing Myka for some reason was too much for Pete to handle. He felt like it took a lifetime for Myka to open the door and let him in.

She opened the door and quickly turned around, heading to the edge of her bed. She didn't give Pete a chance to look at her. She sat down at the edge, staring at the nightstand next to her bed, letting her hair block Pete's view of her face. He hesitantly sat down on the bed next to Myka, softly grabbing her hand that was laying in her lap.

For once, Myka had no desire to pull away, no feeling of pressure or anxiety. She felt...safe, as if his hand was going to reach inside of her and pull away all that ate away at her. She wanted him to take it all away, make it feel like it never happened.

"Myka..." He whispered softly, placing his finger under her chin and pulling her face so he could look into her eyes. They were red and moist with unshed tears. As soon as Myka looked into his eyes she broke down. She threw her arms around his and cried as his hand drew small circles on her back.


	10. Breaking Through

She sat there, staring at the wall as tears fell down her cheeks, eventually soaking into Pete's shirt. She closed her eyes, focusing on Pete's hand rubbing gentle circles on her back.

"Pete…"

"Yeah Myka?"

"I'm sorry…For everything." She said, unconsciously nuzzling her head closer to Pete.

"Myka. You're human. You're allowed to show weakness every so often."

"I've never cried in front of someone." She said quietly.

Pete couldn't help but like the fact that he was the first to see Myka so, vulnerable. Not that he wanted to see Myka hurt like this. He couldn't help but think maybe, just maybe, he was closer to Myka than Sam ever had. He liked that. He liked having a part of Myka no one else had. He was scared to admit that he was so far in love with Myka he didn't know what was up or down. Ever since he met her he felt something lite up inside of him.

"What's wrong, Myka?"

"What you said before. I wish I could love, especially now more then ever but I can't. I…I'm scared to. I don't want to get hurt again."

"My. What happened?" He couldn't help but let his voice waiver, suddenly feeling lost and powerless. He looked at her and it took all his energy to keep the tears from falling. She seemed so frail and weak. Her shoulders shook slightly as she sobbed quietly. Her eyes, red from crying, seemed distant and full of pain.

Something in his voice hit her hard. Suddenly a new set of tears fell. He sounded almost scared and concerned at the same time. She felt his arms wrap tighter around her. Suddenly she realized something about Pete she had never realized before.

Pete was the only one who could pick on her and still not cause the same fury and irritation everyone else caused to boil over from within her.

Pete was the only one who could hold her this tight without sending her back to the times Cole would wrap his arms around her waist or hands around her neck so tightly that should couldn't breath.

Pete could play with her curls, twirl them around his fingers, without her feeling Cole pulling on them.

Pete was the only one she could love without seeing Cole, without feeling weak, without feeling stupid, without hurting and without thinking.

"Pete, can I tell you something?"

"Anything."

"I think I'm in love with you." She's not sure why that suddenly came out. It was not what she intended on saying. Yes she wanted to tell him that but not that way.

"What…and that makes you cry and get mad at me?" Pete's heart swelled at her words. He felt, complete. But then her words in the kitchen and her tears felt like someone stabbed him.

"I…don't know…I'm confused…I can't love you…I told myself long ago I wouldn't fall in love. I gave in with Sam and it was a big mistake. I've accepted the fact that I'm not meant to fall in love but I can't help feeling something for you and that scares me beyond belief. You don't know what I've been through. I've been hurt too much and-"

She was cut off from ranting by Pete's hands on her face.

"I will never hurt you. I love you too much. Please Myka, believe me." She suddenly felt overwhelmed by everything. Not the sort of overwhelming feeling that causes a sort of suffocating feeling as if you're drowning.

"I do. I do believe you. I just, I can't love you Pete, I'm sorry." She suddenly got up, pushing softly against Pete. She was surprised her legs could even carry her weight since they were shaking so much. She opened the bedroom door, her face as cold as ice. "Just, forget this ever happened, okay. Please, for me Pete." She motioned at the doorway, praying the Pete wouldn't be his usual stubborn self.

Pete got up and closed the door, grabbing Myka's shoulders. "I'm not leaving you. Ever. Please don't shut me out like you've done to everyone else."

"Pete…" She cried quietly. She gave up and gave in and for the first time she was okay with it. She told him everything from her beatings, the rape, the screaming matches, the names he called her and the fact that he kept it to herself only.

When she was done she looked up from the floor she was staring into Pete's eyes. She was shocked and sort of comforted by what she saw. In his eyes was a sort of understanding and sympathy she had never felt or seen before. She felt nothing but love from Pete.

He took a step forward and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight against his body. He was glad she couldn't see his face because he could no longer control himself. His hands were squeezed into tight fists to the point where his knuckles turned white. A strong hatred and fury that he'd never felt before began to build up inside of him, slowly boiling over. He wanted to kill Cole, a slow and painful death, one that causes agony beyond comprehension, the only thing the scum deserved out of life.

He felt Myka suddenly hug him back and he simply melted in her arms, tears slowly falling from her eyes.

"I love you Myka, so much. I promise. No one will ever hurt you. I'll protect you till the day I die." He whispered softly in her ear.

"I love you too Pete. Thank you, for listening." She let go of him enough to look up at him. Her heart suddenly started pounding three times faster then ever before. She stared into his eyes for what felt like an eternity before she suddenly closed the gap between the two of them, softly kissing him.

Pete felt an electric shock coarse through his body, his body warming at the feeling of her soft lips against his. The kiss, as gentle as it was, released a fire inside of him. Months of bottled up passion and love was expressed in this one kiss. Pete wrapped his arms around her waist, needing to feel her body against his as many inches as possible. Myka in return wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. Pete pulled away suddenly, feeling Myka's hands beginning to slide up his back underneath his shirt. Every inch of skin she touched felt like it was on fire and he didn't want her to stop. His head was spinning and his mind was foggy. He knew he had to stop this before he lost any sort of rational thought.

"Myka I-" Pete paused, trying to think of the best way to say what he wanted to without messing u. "I want this to last. I don't want to mess this up. Maybe we should we take things slow or-"

"Pete I'm not asking you to jump into bed with me. Shut up and just kiss me." She wasn't sure where the sudden confidence was coming from but it was there. She said with a small, almost girlish giggle.

Realizing he had the old Myka back he gladly followed her orders. He grabbed her hips, pulling her in. They explored each other's mouths with an enthusiasm a young has. Sadly the need for oxygen became a necessity and they pulled apart slowly, placing their foreheads against each other. They stared at each other, both attempting to catch their breath.

"DINNER!" Leena screams, her voice echoing through the entire Inn.

"My head says stay here but my tummy says go," Pete said in a childish voice.

"Well a hungry Pete is a scary Pete." Myka said pushing him towards the door.

They lied down on the couch, staring absent-mindedly at the fire, neither one talking.

"Pete. Thank you for listening. I've…never opened up to anyone before."

"You're welcome. So, do I have the old Myka back?"

"The 'old' Myka?"

"Yeah. The bossy and methodic yet cute bookworm." He said jokingly.

"I'm not bossy!" She whacked him playfully.

"Keep telling yourself that." He squeezed her arm gently. "And thank you for opening ip to me and trusting me."

"You're welcome. Just don't expect me to become all mushy all the time." She said with a small smile.

"I won't." He looked down at her and caught her attempting to stifle a yawn. He chuckled softly. Myka, laying flat against his chest, closed her eyes, focusing on Pete's steady heartbeat. For the first time ever the tought of Cole or anything he had caused her wasn't present in her mind at all. She felt complete all of a sudden; almost whole again.

He felt her breathing even out as sleep began to take over her. He ran his hand over her head, kissing the top of it softly. He looked at the ceiling trying to remember a poem that his mother once read to him. He smiled as the words came back to him, smiling as they wrapped around him. As the words formed on his lips all he could see in his mind was Myka. He whispered softly in Myka's ear,

"She tenderly kissed me,

She fondly caressed,

And then I fell gently

To sleep on her breast-

Deeply to sleep

From the heaven of her breast.

When the light was extinguished,

She covered me warm,

And she prayed to the angles

To keep me from harm-

To the queen of the angels

To shield me from harm."

He looked down at Myka's sleeping form, a warm smile crossing his face. He couldn't think of any other place he wanted to be than where he was right now. He heard Myka whisper softly back to him is a sleepy voice, "And I lie so composedly…." Her voice trailed off as she fell asleep. The light from the fireplace flickered across her serene face.


	11. Glorious Morning

She walked across Leena's yard, to the far right corner, her feet almost moving on their own. She sat herself down on the old glider that was pushed into the corner, slowly falling apart. She gently rocked back and forth, staring aimlessly at the ground and rethinking everything with Pete. She knew the more she thought about it the more she'd regret it and the more she some how logic herself out of her feelings for Pete. She scolded herself for doing so and tried to get her mind off what had happened. Suddenly a small speck of purple flashed in the corner of her eye. By the leg of the bench, covered with weeds, was one lone morning glory, closing up as the morning sun began to rise.

Myka glanced back at the B & B and realized how far away it really was from all the others. She couldn't understand how a small, fragile flower had moved from the side of the house, where it was surrounded by others, all the way to the isolated corner of the lawn.

She knew it was irrational, but she sort of felt sorry for the plant. It looked dull and sickly, lacking nutrients that the weeds stole from it. Using her hands she dug up the flower and gentle carried it to the side of the house. She knelt down, getting ready to plant it by the rest but suddenly changed her mind.

She walked over to the sign hanging in the front lawn which read "Leena's Bed and Breakfast" and planted it at the base of the post. Slowly it grew, wrapping itself tightly around the post, refusing to let go. It was the flower's support. The deep rich purple petals reflected the morning light, giving the flowers a heavenly shine as if they were from the Garden of Eden. It flourished like none of the other flowers did and every morning Myka stared at, a feeling of pride swelling in her chest.


End file.
